


A Very Loser Christmas

by tollie



Category: Doctor Sleep - Stephen King, IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Awkward Romance, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Doctor Sleep Characters Make a Cameo, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Engagement, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Oblivious Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Richie Drinks Too Much Egg Nog, Slow Burn Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:21:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21892846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tollie/pseuds/tollie
Summary: Mike has settled down in Frazier, New Hampshire and invites the losers to a Christmas Party at his house. Bill/Mike established, Richie/Eddie still oblivious.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon, Billy Freeman/Dan "Danny" Torrance, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 3
Kudos: 52





	1. Mike Makes the Calls

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for puking... I mean Richie is in it so... yeah.

Mike Hanlon pulled out his list of names and numbers – updated since the summer, of course – and began to dial. He could skip Bill. Since his separation from Audra, he had stepped back from writing for the screen and was working on a new project. He had been crashing at Mike's place ever since he had settled down (“Temporarily settled down,” Mike always said) in New Hampshire.

First he called Bev and Ben, conveniently consolidated in the Hamptons, New York for the season. The phone rang a few times, then a familiar voice picked up. “Hello?”

“Bev! It's Mike,” he said. The circumstances were very different from the last time he had made these calls. He smiled softly, and heard Bev's smile over the phone.

“Mikey! Hey, Merry Christmas! How's New Hampshire?” She sounded happy. So happy.

“It's great! I got Bill here,” he said, looking over his shoulder at Bill, who was crouched over a laptop in the corner of the room.

“HI BILL!” The speaker crackled, and Bill looked up, barely concealing a grin.

“Tell them I said hi,” he said.

“Bill says 'Hi,'” Mike repeated. “Anyway, I'm just calling because I was thinking of having a get together. You know, everybody. Right here at my place.”

Bev sounded pleased. “We'd love that, right Ben?” A voice, muffled, but definitively Ben's, sounded in agreement.

“Then it's settled. You can even stay all Christmas. We've got extra rooms set up for you and Ben, Richie, Eddie...” Mike still couldn't believe Eddie had crawled out of the wreckage of Niebolt alive. The doctors had declared him a miracle, and said his survival was a one-in-a-million chance. Mike could almost hear Richie's cracks about risk analysis being a crock of shit.

“That's great. I can't wait to see you guys under... better circumstances,” Bev said.

They exchanged fond farewells, and hung up, and Mike moved on to the next call.

#

Eddie Kaspbrak was still reeling from his near death experience. He was on sabbatical from work – honestly, he wasn't sure if risk analysis was something he wanted to go back to doing at this point. Maybe he could do something better for the world, like... something health related. Health inspector, maybe. Making sure people didn't get food poisoning. That might be a good way to go. But then there was Myra...

Leaving suddenly after accidentally wrecking their car and calling her “mommy” on the same day aside, Eddie was in a pile of hot shit with Myra for coming home with a fresh surgery scar on his chest. It was an all-out screaming fight, ending with Eddie declaring that he needed some space, and walking out the door. He hadn't spoken to her in a week, and was currently staying in a Manhattan-adjacent hotel – not the cheapest, but, he thought, certainly worth it for the jump in quality of the cleaning service. He couldn't imagine going back to day to day life with Myra after everything he had been through. There was no way.

He thought about calling someone – Ben, maybe. He lived in New York, last Eddie checked. But he and Bev were all cozy, probably having some romantic holiday vacation somewhere. The next thought to cross his mind, he shot down immediately. _No, no. I can't call Richie. He lives in LA for chrissake. That's the literal opposite end of the fucking country._ Still, he picked up his cell phone, swiped at the screen, and opened up his contacts, scrolling idly toward the “R's.”

Just then the phone began to buzz, and Eddie jumped, dropping it on the floor. It wound up beneath the hotel bed, and Eddie knelt to the floor, having to stick half his body under the bed to reach it. ( _How does this happen?_ he thought.) He swiped up at the screen without looking, and bumped his head on the bedspring as he wriggled his way out from under it.

“Ow! Edward Kaspbrak speaking!” He rubbed at the back of his skull. No bump. That was a bad sign. He hoped he didn't have a concussion.

“Eds! It's Mike,” said the voice on the other line. Eddie's face lit up.

“Mikey!” he said, instantly brightening. “Good to hear from you!”

“It's good to hear from you, man,” Mike said. “We all thought you were dead!”

“Alive and kicking,” Eddie said. He fumbled with his inhaler in his pocket.

“Anyways, I was wondering if you wanted to come out to New Hampshire. I'm having this Christmas thing --”

“Yes!” Eddie said, not bothering to wait for the rest of the sentence. He had not been looking forward to spending Christmas alone in an overpriced New York hotel room.

“Great!” Mike said, laughing. “We've got extra rooms set up, Bill's here already, and I got Ben and Bev on board. I just gotta call Richie next.”

Eddie let out a strangled noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a choke.

“Uh, anyway,” Mike continued after a slight pause, “I'll send you the address. You on Facebook?”

#

Richie had fallen asleep on the couch again. It was hard for him to fall asleep these days, and he had started falling asleep to Netflix. The autoplay was weird though – he would fall asleep watching Arrested Development and wake up watching The Office. He fucking hated The Office. His phone was buzzing, and he fished around in the couch cushions before locating it on the floor beneath the coffee table. He picked it up. Mike Hanlon's name and face appeared on the screen, and he put the phone to his ear, still bleary.

“Hello?” he said.

“Rich!” Mike said cheerily. Richie felt warmth surge in his chest at the sound of his voice – the exact opposite of the last time he had called. “How's it going man?”

“Oh, you know,” Richie said, “It's going good, actually. I've been working on some new material.”

Mike laughed. “Your old act not cutting it anymore?”

“Ha, ha,” Richie said. “Anyway, what's up? Find another evil clown we need to smoke?”

“No,” Mike said, a little too firmly. “I'm actually throwing a Christmas party. I know you're still out in California, but I'm living out here in New Hampshire these days, and I've got a pretty nice place – lots of room. I already invited Ben and Bev, Bill's already here, and I just called Eddie --”

“Oh,” Richie said. “Eddie's gonna be there! Awesome!” He realized how dumb he sounded. He had been the only one of them to think that Eddie could have survived Niebolt, but now that he had, Richie almost couldn't wrap his head around it.

“Yeah, it is awesome. I just talked to him. He sounds like he's doing great,” Mike said.

“Oh yeah?” Richie asked, fidgeting. “So hows, uh, Maya?”

Mike sounded confused. “Maya? Oh, you mean Myra? I don't know. She didn't come up.”

“So is she coming to the thing?” Richie asked. He was digging himself deeper and deeper. But, as always, once words started to come out of his mouth, he couldn't stop them.

“I don't know,” Mike said. “I didn't ask. But we certainly have room for everybody.” He was back to sounding cheery.

Richie scowled. “Oh, okay. So you'd be fine if I brought someone?”

There was a pause. “I mean, sure. You planning on bringing somebody?”

“No,” Richie said. He took a deep breath. “I'm sorry, man. It's just been a really weird year, you know?”

“Yeah, I know, Rich,” said Mike, and that warm feeling spread through Richie's chest again.

“Anyway, I'd love to come to your party. I can't wait to be there with all you guys,” Richie said.

“Can't wait to see you, too, Rich,” said Mike. “Oh, and Bill says hi.”

“HI BILL,” Richie yelled into the phone.

Mike laughed, relaying the message. “All right, Rich, I'll send you the address. Talk to you later.”

“Yeah, see you soon, loser,” Richie said, and hung up the phone, slumping back into his deep-cushion couch and raking his hands through his hair. _What the fuck is wrong with me?_ he thought, and before the next episode of The Office was over, he had drifted back to sleep.

#

“Richie was weird,” Mike said, settling in next to Bill on the sofa.

“Richie is always weird,” said Bill, putting an arm around Mike. Mike leaned in to kiss his cheek, but Bill turned at the last moment, meeting Mike's mouth with his.

“This is going to be good, right?” Mike asked.

“Why wouldn't it be?” said Bill, lips turned slightly upward, a boyish twinkle in his eye.

Mike leaned his head against Bill's shoulder, letting himself relax – something he still wasn't used to doing. The Christmas tree twinkled to their right, and a fire roared in the fireplace to their left. Things were good. Things would _be_ good.

“So this thing is just for us Losers, right?” Mike spoke up again, a thought occuring to him.

“Uh, yeah,” Bill said. “I figured as much. Why?”

Mike shook his head. It was a silly thought. “Well, Dan and Billy told me they might stop by. I said it was all right, but I can tell them...”

Bill shrugged. “I mean, it's all right with me. But don't they have family around?”

“Yeah,” said Mike. “Still, the more the merrier, I think.” He paused. “And if they bring food, I'll be grateful. One less thing to cook.”

“Speaking of,” Bill said, “I hope you're not expecting me to be much help in the kitchen. I'm pretty much useless in that department.”

Mike gave Bill a pointed look. “Oh, no, you're not. Just follow my instructions, and you'll be fine.”

Bill gave a dramatic sigh.

“How did you ever survive without Audra?” Mike laughed.

“Takeout,” Bill said. “Lots of takeout.”


	2. Step Into Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Losers arrive at Mike's house, and Bill and Mike decide to keep their relationship quiet for now.

The tree was lit up with multicolored lights and covered in tinsel, the stereo blared “Step Into Christmas” by Elton John, and the TV was tuned to the Yule Log – now all Mike needed were his friends.

“Bill, can you check on that pumpkin pie for me?” he called, ducking his head into the kitchen.

There was a clatter from the oven, and Bill yelped. “Uh,” came the voice of his hapless boyfriend, “How am I supposed to know when it's done?”

Mike rolled his eyes. He really had to do everything. He moved to take over, but at that moment the doorbell rang.

“Just – ah – just get the door for me, will you? I'll get the pie.”

Bill gave a look of sheer relief. He was sucking on one of his fingers, which he had clearly burned on the oven – although Mike wasn't sure how he had managed by just opening it. Mike shook his head, but couldn't help a smile.

Voices coming from the hall told him Ben and Bev had arrived. He pulled the pie from the oven, quickly setting it on the counter and shutting the oven door, then rushed out to greet them, hands still sheathed in potholders adorned with snowmen and Santa Clause.

“Mikey!” Ben embraced him in a tight hug that just about squeezed all the wind from his lungs. Mike gasped, patting Ben's muscular back with one hand.

“Good to see you, buddy,” he said, pulling away, and trying not to gasp for air.

Bev was next, wrapping her long arms around Mike and tugging him close. “Missed you,” she said into his ear. Mike felt his chest flood with warmth.

“I missed you too,” he said, pulling back. “Both of you. Now come on in, lets get you folks warmed up.”

Bill moved to grab Bev's bag, but she shook her head at him. “I can do it, Big Bill,” she said, smiling, and Bill looked sheepish.

“You guys will be just upstairs, second door on the left,” Mike said, gesturing up the stairs with his oven mitts, then, realizing they were still on, pulled them off. “But hey, forget your bags. Come sit by the fire. I want to hear about you.”

Ben and Bev set their bags in the hallway and followed Mike and Bill into the living room. The tree sparkled, and Bev's eyes lit up when she saw it. “Gorgeous, Mikey!” she said.

“Bill helped pick it out,” Mike said, shooting Bill an affectionate look. Bill shuffled his feet. “He did a good job, right?”

“So Bill,” Ben said. “How's the book going?”

“Oh, _That_ ,” Bill said, laughing. “Going well. Just finished up the first draft. It's... over a thousand pages.”

Ben and Bev exchanged shocked looks.

“You gonna edit it down, or what?” Bev asked.

“I dunno,” Bill said. “I'm not sure what I'd leave out. It's all kind of important.”

“It's great,” Mike said. “From what I've read so far, that is.” As the others found seats on the sofa, he remained standing. “Now, who wants a drink?”

“I do!” was the rousing chorus, and Mike took Bill by the hand, leading him into the kitchen to help pour wine and heat water for hot toddies.

Before they knew it, it was like the old days again – but without the existential threat of a killer clown looming over their heads. Bev sipped her hot toddy and talked about her new fashion line (“Just _Marsh_ ,” she said, and Ben beamed proudly at her, looking twelve years old again). Bill relayed how the publishing process for _That_ was going (“I gave the first few chapters to my agent and he loved it,” Bill said. “Wait till he hears how many more chapters there are in this thing,” teased Mike). The four of them were getting into a groove when the doorbell rang again.

Bill and Mike both jumped up, and Bill said, “I'll get it,” holding out a hand to gently push Mike back into his seat. Mike smiled up at him in thanks and turned his attention to Ben, who was telling them about how he was taking a year off from his architecture firm. (“I just needed some time, you know? My therapist thinks it's a great idea, what with all the... changes.”). Then Eddie Kaspbrak stepped into the room, and all eyes turned to him.

Bev put down her drink and leapt from her chair, crossing the room in one swift movement. “Eddie!” she cried, throwing her arms around him. Ben stood up, too, and joined in on the hug ( _Hopefully more gently this time,_ Mike thought). Bill and Mike completed the circle, all embracing Eddie, who looked caught between tears of joy and embarrassment.

“Come on, guys,” Eddie said finally, as they all began to pull away. “It's not like I died.”

“Eds,” Mike said, one hand resting on Eddie's shoulder. “It's so good to see you, man.”

“Good to see you, too,” Eddie said. “Can I get one of those?” he pointed to the glass of wine Ben was holding, and Mike laughed.

“Of course you can! You deserve it,” Mike said. He rushed to the kitchen to grab another glass for Eddie. As soon as he returned, he heard the door close. He and Bill looked at each other, concerned, but just then Richie Tozier entered the room, clad in a leather jacket (a different one than he had worn in Maine) and holding a potted poinsetta.

“Your door was open, so I just came in,” Richie said. “Why are you all staring at me? Don't I get a hello?”

“Richie!” Bev cried, giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “You look great,” she said, though clearly, he did not.

Mike handed Eddie his wine glass, and crossed the room to take the poinsetta off Richie's hands. “I'm glad you could make it, Rich,” he said, giving Richie a one-armed hug, and placing the poinsetta down on the coffee table. “Thank you for this,” he added.

“Yeah, well, somebody gave it to me, then I found out they're poisonous to cats, so I had to get rid of it somehow,” he smirked.

“So you took it on a plane across the country?” Eddie retorted. He stood, putting his wine glass down, and hugged Richie, who at first just stared off past Eddie's shoulder, then put his arms around him, smiling softly.

“Good to see you, Eds,” Richie said. “Really, really good.”

“Yeah, you too,” Eddie said, pulling back. “When you walked in here you looked like you saw a ghost.”

“I thought I did,” said Richie.

Ben and Bill came in for hugs next, and Richie's bugged out eyes told Mike that he got the same Ben treatment he had.

“Damn, dude, you been benching sumo wrestlers?” Richie said as Ben pulled away.

Ben laughed. “Something like that” he said.

“I think you broke my ribs,” Richie said, rubbing at his abdomen.

Bev gave Ben's arm a playful punch, then shook her hand as though she had punched a rock wall. This got a laugh from the whole group.

“So the gang's all here,” said Richie. “I pronounce this meeting of the Loser's Club...”

“Beep beep, Rich,” said Mike. “No more official meetings. This is a party. You want a drink?”

“Do you have egg nog?” Richie asked hopefully.

Mike nodded. “Hey Bill,” he said, “Mind coming to help me out?”

Bill followed him into the kitchen. “Need help pouring egg nog?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.

Mike had already taken a mug down from the cupboard and was measuring out a shot glass of bourbon. “Not that,” he said. “I just realized, they don't know we're a thing.”

Bill looked behind him to be sure no one was there. “And is that a problem? I mean, can't we just tell them?”

“I guess, I mean –” Mike sighed. “I'm just a little worried about Richie.”

“What about Richie?” Bill said.

At that moment, Richie himself poked his head into the kitchen. “Hey Mikey, no offense, but I'm about to smash your boombox if I have to hear one more second of Paul McCartney's 'Wonderful Christmastime'.”

“What's wrong with Sir Paul?” Mike asked, holding out the mug of egg nog.

Richie took it. “It's _bad_ , dude.”

“Just hit skip, I made a whole playlist,” Mike said, and Richie retreated back to the living room. He turned back to Bill. “I don't know, babe, I just feel like he's going through some stuff right now. He might be hurt.”

“Why would _our_ relationship hurt _him_?” Bill asked. Mike honestly wondered how he could write books involving human relationships sometimes.

“Because, Bill,” Mike said, lowering his voice. “He's been hiding the fact he's gay for 30 years. Now we just come out here like 'Hey Richie, it's us, your oldest friends, and guess what, we're gay too'?”

“It might help him,” Bill said. “I just don't see why it should be a problem.”

“It's not a _problem_ ,” Mike said, “I just think we should wait for the right time to tell everybody, that's all.”

“All right,” Bill said, giving Mike a small kiss. “Whatever you want to do, that's all right with me.”


	3. You're a Christmas Unicorn, Too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben and Bev plan their engagement announcement, and Richie tests out his new standup on the other Losers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and Happy Hannukah to all who celebrate! I appreciate all who have read, left kudos, and commented so far!

“Need another one?” Mike asked. Ben held his empty wine glass close to his chest.

“You don't have to keep getting stuff for us, Mikey,” Ben said. “I can get it myself!” He stood to do so, but Bev held out an arm to stop him.

“Before we get completely plastered,” Bev said, “I think we should probably get our stuff up to our room, don't you, honey?”

Ben smiled sheepishly and set his glass down. “Yeah, I guess you're right.” He put an arm around Bev. She was always surprised how much of a lightweight he was when it came to drinking.

“Second door on the left, right Mikey?” Bev said, and Mike nodded, already taking Ben's glass into the kitchen for a refill. Bev maneuvered her tall, drunken boyfriend into the hall, where he picked up all of the suitcases (“I can take mine! I can – oh, fine!”) and stumbled up the steps.

Once in their room, Ben and Bev shared a wine-soaked kiss. Bev had never felt like this. She had loved Tom, but... she shuddered thinking of it. She was still on edge much of the time, and startled far too easily – but Ben was different. He was kind. He _actually_ cared about her, and he always had. She felt so safe in his arms. Safe was something she was not used to feeling.

Ben pulled away, and turned, unzipping his suitcase. He pulled out the little black box that held Bev's ring and opened it. “You want to put it on? Show it off?” He wiggled his shoulders, grinning like a little kid. Bev couldn't help but giggle. “What?” he said.

“You're just adorable, that's all,” Bev said, kissing him again. “But I don't want to put it on just yet. I want to make it a whole _thing_ , you know? I want to make an announcement!”

“The ring _is_ the announcement,” Ben said. His face betrayed a little bit of disappointment, but he didn't look too hurt.

“I just... I never got this.” Bev played with his hands, intertwining their fingers together in different patterns. “I never got to have a real engagement, with friends to celebrate it with. Does that make sense?”

Ben nodded. He brought one of her hands to his mouth and kissed it. “I get it. I do. I'm just so excited!” His eyes twinkled, his grin wide. “I just want to tell the whole world, 'I get to marry Beverly Marsh!'”

Bev shushed him, pulling him in close again. “I know,” she said. “Me too. We just have to wait, okay? It will be better if we wait.”

Ben nodded, smiling, and leaned down, touching his forehead to hers. “Okay,” he said.

“Besides,” Bev said. “You don't want everyone to find out because Richie made some dumb joke about how, 'That rock is bigger than your dick' or some shit.”

Ben laughed a bit too hard at that.

“Now come on,” she said, “Lets go back downstairs.” She took the box, which sat on the bed, and slipped it into her pocket. “I'll keep this with me for later.”

#

Eddie's chest had flooded with relief as soon as he had walked into Mike's house. The others had embraced him (Ben a little too hard) and he realized that he had not felt this good since before they had fought the goddamn clown. How fucked up was that?

Now Richie was here and he was fucking _soaring_. For some reason he wanted to tell him everything – about his fight with Myra, about the hotel, and how he had almost called – but that would be stupid, right? Instead he just hugged him, teased him about his poinsettia. Sat down and tried to temper the fucking jet plane in his chest with a glass of red wine. But god, it wasn't helping.

“So Rich,” he said, and felt the stupid grin on his face grow wider. “How's the comedy coming?”

“It's going really good, actually,” Richie said, wiping at his egg nog-mustache. “I started writing my own stuff.”

“Fucking finally!” Eddie said. “Let's hear it, Trashmouth!”

“Oh, I mean, I don't --” Richie was almost blushing. “It's still rough, I haven't even tested it out yet.”

“Who's a better audience than us?” Bev said, leaning back into Ben's arms.

“Okay but you guys can't...” Richie started, then paused, scrunching up his face. “I was just about to say you guys can't laugh... at my jokes... Jesus. I just mean, it's gonna be pretty different from my old stuff.”

“Thank god,” Eddie said.

“Fuck you, dude,” Richie said.

“Fuck you!” Eddie said, grinning.

“Okay,” Richie said, taking a deep breath. “Okay.” He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, Eddie got an immediate flashback to watching Richie's first special on Netflix with Myra. But when he opened his mouth, what came out could not have been further from that memory. “So I recently found out I'm gay. Super weird, right? Turns out this whole time I was making dick jokes because I wanted one in my mouth.”

Bev laughed so hard, hot toddy sprayed from her nose. Bill and Mike chuckled, shooting each other mysterious looks. Ben covered his mouth, trying to keep from spitting wine all over Mike's carpet. Eddie laughed, too, but his enjoyment of the joke was tempered by something else – since when was Richie gay? Was everyone in on this except for him?

“The weirdest thing about coming out as gay when you're older is, there are all of these cultural zeitgeists I know nothing about,” Richie continued, staring off into the fireplace to avoid making eye contact with his friends. “Apparently I need to catch up on like 10 seasons of RuPaul's Drag Race, and start listening to some dude named Sufjan Stevens.”

Mike let out a bellowing laugh. “No way!” he said, standing up. “I have Sufjan Stevens on my playlist.” He crossed the room and pressed skip a couple of times on his stereo. Soon a crooning voice rang out, “ _I'm a Christmas unicorn, in a uniform made of gold...”_

“Huh,” said Richie, brow furrowing. “This is not what I expected.”

“Well, this is his Christmas stuff,” said Mike. “The rest of his stuff is... varying levels of weird.”

“Cool,” said Richie. “I'll check it out.”

“Your new stuff is amazing, Richie,” said Bev, reaching across and putting a hand on his arm. “Let us know when your next special is coming out, okay?”

Richie shrugged. “I don't really know if there's gonna be another special,” he said. “I mean, my existing fanbase isn't exactly clamoring for this kind of material.”

Eddie sat in silence next to Richie as Bev, Mike, Bill, and Ben reassured him about the future of his career. He supposed he had always wondered about Richie. But the others seemed less than surprised. Had he told them while Eddie was in the hospital?

Richie looked at him, then looked back at the fireplace, tipping the last dregs of boozy egg nog into his mouth. He wiped the concoction from his lips ( _such a gross drink_ , Eddie thought, but somehow couldn't look away). Eddie's mind raced. He couldn't let it go. _Richie's gay,_ he thought. It made sense the more he thought about it. His childhood obsession with Street Fighter came into clear view, and he remembered how Richie always wanted him to come to the arcade and play....

Eddie shook his head. While he had been staring off into space, Richie had gotten up to refill his drink. Bev and Ben were busy whispering sweet nothings to each other, Bev's legs draped over Ben's lap, and Bill and Mike were somewhere loudly discussing dinner plans.

“How long is this fuckin' song, man?” he heard Richie ask in the kitchen.

“Twelve minutes,” came Mike's reply.

“Holy shit,” Richie said. He came back into view, the egg nog mustache fresh on his upper lip again.

“How can you drink that stuff?” Eddie blurted. “I feel like if I drank one sip of it I'd shit myself.”

“It's fucking good, that's how,” Richie said, shoving the glass under Eddie's nose. The smell of the burboun and the eggy, milky mixture hit his nose like a freight train and he scrunched up his face in disgust.

“Get that the fuck away from me!” he said, waving Richie away. Richie chuckled.

“Ah, Eds. It is so easy to get a rise out of you, dude,” Richie said, sitting down. The smile on his face was somehow sad. Eddie's brow furrowed.

“The new material is great, Rich,” Eddie said. “It's so much funnier than any of that shit you were doing before.”

“You really think so?” Richie said, raising his eyes to meet Eddie's.

“Yeah, I really do.”

Richie's face brightened a bit. “Do you want to hear more?”

“Hell yeah!” Eddie said, raising his wine glass high. Richie lifted his mug and clinked them together, then they both drank.

“Hang on,” Richie said, getting up again. “Let me just get my laptop.”


	4. A Midnight Clear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan Torrance and Billy Freeman make a short visit, and Eddie lets it slip that his marriage is on the rocks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I really thought this would be done by Christmas, lol. It'll probably be one more chapter after this, which I'll try to get done today -- will be finished by New Years at the very latest! Thanks for reading!

Mike was giving Bill step-by-step directions on reheating the stuffing and green beans when another knock came at the door.

“No, no, no, no, M-Mikey, I need you!” Bill said, the ghost of his childhood stutter coming through in his panicked state.

“Bill, it's okay. You're gonna be fine,” Mike said. “I'm just going to get the door and I'll be right back.” He stopped in the hall and turned. “Literally all you have to do is cover them with foil and put them in the oven for like ten minutes.”

“Okay. Okay,” Bill said, taking deep breaths.

Mike rushed to answer the door, and as he opened it, broke out into a grin. Dan Torrance and Billy Freeman stood on the other side, clad in matching train sweaters and mittens adorned with snowflakes. Dan held out a tray of cookies, and Billy immediately came in for a tight hug, humming “Carol of the Bells” in an off-key _dun dun dun dun, dun, dun dun dun..._

“Merry Christmas you two!” Mike said. “I'm glad you could stop by. Come on in!”

“We can't stay long,” Dan said. “I've got a little niece who is, at this very moment, bugging me to get my you-know-what over there.” He turned his head to the side, clearly addressing Abra now. “Language, kid, language.”

Mike laughed. “They grow up fast, I guess?”

Dan shook his head. “Too fast.”

“How have you been, Billy?” Mike said.

The older man gave a big sigh. “Christmas season is a pretty big deal in Tiny Town.”

“Oh, I bet,” Mike said. “Giving a lot of train rides?”

“Yep,” said Billy. “Helps that I've got my own Santa beard, now.” He tugged at the grizzle of grey hanging from his chin.

They stepped into the living room, and the rest of the Losers looked up expectantly.

“Dan, Billy, these are my old friends from Derry. Richie, Eddie, Ben, and Beverly.” Mike pointed out each one, and they all gave polite greetings in turn. “Bill, my uh –” he stopped himself before he could say _boyfriend_. “Bill's in the kitchen.”

Bill poked his head out and waved with an oven mitted hand.

“There he is. Bill Denbrough, meet Billy Freeman. And this is Dan Torrance.”

Bill nodded to each of them. “I'd come shake your hands, but...” he gestured with one of the oven mitts. Dan chuckled.

“It's all right. We're really just here to say Merry Christmas and drop off some holiday cheer,” he said, brandishing his platter of cookies.

“Oh! Let me get those for you,” Mike said, taking the tray and setting it in the middle of the coffee table, scooting Richie's mug aside. “Thank you so much, by the way.”

“Billy made them,” Dan said, smiling at Billy, who returned his affectionate grin. “They're delicious.”

“Hope none of you are allergic to nuts,” Billy said.

Eddie made a noise, but didn't say anything.

“Sorry, Eds,” Mike said. “But I did make some pumpkin pie. Gluten free crust.”

“Thanks,” Eddie said. “Turns out, I am not actually gluten intolerant. It was just stress.”

“Wow,” Richie said, “Who ever would have thought?”

“Leave him alone,” Bev said. “Anyway it's really nice to meet you two. How did you and Mike meet?”

“Well, we just got to talking, and turns out Mike's dad knew a good friend of mine. A man by the name of Dick Halloran,” Dan said.

“Isn't that the guy who founded the Black Spot?” Ben asked, still the Derry history buff.

“That place that got burned down by --” Richie started, but Mike interrupted him.

“That racist cult, yes. Halloran saved my dad's life, actually,” Mike said.

“Saved mine, too,” said Dan wistfully, eyes misting over a bit.

“Can I get you fellas some water? I've also got egg nog, tea, coffee...” Mike asked, pivoting to a cheerier subject. “And you're welcome to stay for dinner.”

Dan and Billy exchanged looks, then Dan turned his head again, apparently receiving another message from his niece. “All right, all right,” he said, then turned back to face the group. “I think we'd better go, actually. Abra's a touch impatient.” He chuckled. “Gets it from my side, I guess.”

“Okay, well, safe travels,” Mike said, thanking them again for the cookies.

Billy threw his arm out to stop Dan as they approached the threshhold. “Wait a minute,” the older man said.

“What?” said Dan, looking concerned. But Billy just pointed at the mistletoe hanging in the doorway. Dan laughed, and they kissed despite Billy's mass of scruffy beard. Dan's eyes twinkled, and Mike thought he looked as happy as he'd ever seen him.

“Merry Christmas, you two,” Mike said.

“Good to meet you!” called Bev from the hallway, and the sentiment was echoed by Ben, Eddie, and Richie. Bill waved, though he looked a little twitchy.

“You can't leave me alone in the kitchen, Mikey,” he said when their visitors had left. “Ask Eddie. It's dangerous in there.”

“Actually, the kitchen is one of the most dangerous places in the home,” Eddie started, but Mike held up a hand to silence him.

“I got it, Eds. Okay, babe, what did you do?” he asked, and disappeared into the kitchen behind him.

#

“Did he just call Bill 'babe'?” Bev said. “Am I the only one who heard that?”

“I thought he said 'Bill',” Eddie said, shrugging.

“Yeah, I didn't hear 'babe',” said Richie. “I think I would know if two of my best friends from childhood were gay and dating each other.”

Bev shrugged. She supposed he would.

“Speaking of which,” said Richie. “You two are so goddamn lucky. Especially you, Bev. Like, damn! Ben is a... he's a freaking _hunk_.”

“All right,” Ben said, blushing. “I'm right here!”

“I'm just saying, dude. Hot as fuck.” Richie said. The bourbon had started to go to his head a bit, especially after the fourth one.

“He really is,” interjected Eddie. “I mean, you're obviously gorgeous too, Bev. You guys are like a couple from TV or something.”

“Stop it, stop it!” Bev said, but she was grinning. Ben had covered his face with both hands.

“You guys are gonna have like the most gorgeous kids in the world, you know that right? They're gonna be like, models, or movie stars...” Richie went on. “You're gonna name one of them Richie, right?”

“Who says we're even having kids?” Bev said. “I mean, it's a little late for me. I'm forty. That ship has pretty much sailed.”

“No way!” Eddie said. “Bullshit. You've still got five years, at least.”

Bev rolled her eyes. “And how would you know, Dr. Kaspbrak?”

Eddie's face fell. “Well, Myra and I were talking about having kids. But that was before...” He trailed off.

“How's it going with you two?” Bev asked, concerned.

Eddie shook his head. “I... I don't know. We're not really a thing right now.”

Richie leaned forward in his seat. “What happened?” he asked. “If – if you don't mind me asking.” Bev shot him a curious look. It was unlike him to care if someone minded him saying anything.

Eddie gave him a similar look. “I mean, I was gonna tell you guys. I just didn't want to bring things down.” He sighed. “When Mike called, I was staying in a hotel room in Queens. Myra and I are kind of... separated right now.” He paused for a minute, and Bev noticed that he wasn't wearing a wedding ring. “I don't know if I even want to go back.”

Richie stared past them, eyes fixated on the tree and its cascading lights. Bev patted Eddie on the shoulder.

“I know it's hard, after everything we've been through,” Bev said. “But Eds, don't you think she'd understand if you just explained --”

Eddie shook his head. “Nope,” he said, and chuckled sadly. “I really, really don't.”

At that moment, Bill and Mike emerged from the kitchen, both looking a bit sweaty and ruffled. “Dinner is ready!” Mike said. He noticed the looks on the other Losers' faces. “Should we uh... move this conversation to the table?”

Eddie snickered, which turned into a full blown laugh. Soon Bev was laughing, too, and Ben looked between them, giving a bemused chuckle. The only one who wasn't laughing was Richie, who still stared at the Christmas tree as though he had seen a ghost.

“You alright, Rich?” Mike asked.

“Yeah,” Richie said, snapping out of it. “I'm good. I'm gonna grab one more glass of nog.”


	5. All I Want for Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We really got here. Wraps up the thing. I tried to keep it PG-13 bc I honestly don't write that stuff anymore lmao. But stuff is implied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you had fun and Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays/Happy New Year!

Richie was still processing what he had heard about Eddie and Myra. The news of Eddie's marriage being on the rocks did not make him _happy_ , exactly. But it didn't make him sad. That was for damn sure. What the fuck _was_ he feeling?

Drunk. That was the answer to that question. Drunk as fuck, and he was about to have another egg nog with – he tipped the bourbon bottle into his mug, pouring _way_ more than the recommended two-finger amount. Whoops.

As he sat down to the dinner table, he realized how hungry he was. There was an entire turkey, a casserole dish filled with green beans, a bowl of stuffing, and a plate of what looked like pancakes with a bowl of applesauce on the side. (“Latkes,” Mike explained, “in honor of Stanley.”) In the center of the table was a pumpkin pie, the crust burned a smidge, but still delicious looking. Richie wanted to dig right in to that, but, he thought, Mike might not appreciate it.

“So do we just start eating, or do we have to say what we're thankful for?” he blurted.

“That's thanksgiving, asshole,” Eddie said, grinning. “How many of these have you had?” He gestured at Richie's mug.

“Fou – ive. Five.” Richie said, taking a sip and wincing. It tasted more like bourbon than egg nog.

“Jesus, save some booze for the rest of us,” Eddie said.

“You've got... wine,” Richie said, as Eddie took a sip from his glass.

“All right, all right,” Mike said. “If these two would shut up for a minute, I'd like to propose a toast.”

Everyone lifted their glasses (and Richie lifted his mug), looking expectantly at Mike.

“To the Losers. And to all that we've accomplished.” He looked at Bill. “And will accomplish,” he said, smiling, "together."

They drank. Richie downed his glass. His stomach was turning, but he was too far gone to care.

The plates of food were passed around like clockwork, and somehow Richie's plate filled up. He shoveled forkful after forkful into his mouth. Talking and laughter filled the air, and he felt conversations zipping past him before he could catch up. He was sitting next to Eddie, whose elbow sat on the table. Richie set his elbow down, too, so that the skin of their forearms touched. Eddie did not move.

Bev tapped on her wine glass, and the chatter stopped.

“I have an announcement to make,” she said. She stood up, fishing something from her back pocket.

Richie felt something rising in his throat. He tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the feeling of his arm touching Eddie's.

Bev pulled out a small box, took a ring out of it, and slipped it on her finger. Ben stood, too, putting his arm around her. “Ben and I are getting married!”

The table erupted with congratulations. Bill, Mike, and Eddie stood to give the couple hugs and offer kind words and smiles. Richie stood, opening his mouth to do the same.

Instead, a yellowish stream of projectile vomit erupted from his maw.

Hitting Eddie directly in the back.

The action stopped. Eddie froze, arms outstretched and muscles tense. He turned slowly.

“What he FUCK, Richie?” he exploded. “What the actual FUCK. I've been so fucking nice to you tonight, Tozier. I listened to your stupid jokes and I laughed at EVERY single one of them!”

Richie looked stunned and green. He wobbled a little bit, trying to process what Eddie was saying. Did he really think his jokes were stupid? “Eds, I am so sorry. I am so sorry.”

Eddie's breathing was hard and shallow.

“Do you need your inhaler, dude?”

“NO! I do not need my fucking inhaler I need a new goddamn sweater and a shower and to fucking sanitize the back of my fucking neck!”

“Okay, okay,” said Mike, “Eds, let's get you to the bathroom. Bill, could you help me out and clean this up? Richie --”

“I got it. I'll help Eddie get cleaned up,” Richie said. “I'm so sorry you guys, I drank way too much of that stuff. I should have stopped two drinks ago, I'm sorry.”

“Stop saying you're fucking sorry,” said Eddie, making the hand gesture near his head that indicated he was really fucking sick sick of this shit.

“I'm s—” Richie started, then stopped, blushing. He rushed to action, trying to help Eddie get his sweater off, but Eddie swatted him away.

They both went to the upstairs bathroom, Richie stopping to grab his toothbrush from his bag. He brushed his teeth in silence as Eddie stripped down to the waist.

“What the hell, dude?” Eddie said as he pulled off his shirt. Richie averted his eyes in the mirror. The scar along the center of his chest was still fresh. It must have missed his heart by millimeters.

“I didn't do it on purpose, man!” Richie said, spitting toothpaste into the sink.

“Why did you drink that much egg nog? God, that stuff is so _gross_ ,” he added.

“I guess I was just... nervous. Nervous to see you,” Richie said. The purging had sobered him a bit, but he was still a little buzzed – his head pounded, and his throat hurt, and he wasn't sure what he was even saying.

“To see me? Why?” Eddie had taken off his shoes, but stopped, turning to face the mirror and looking Richie in the eye.

“You really don't know, dude?” Richie asked, turning around. “Even after Niebolt?”

Eddie stepped closer, but said nothing.

“I'm in love with you, Eddie,” Richie said finally. “I have been since we were kids. I carved our initials on the fucking kissing bridge. I never told you cause I thought you wouldn't...” He stopped, rubbing the back of his neck.

Eddie looked at him for another moment, then started laughing.

“Jesus, dude. Fuck you,” Richie said, turning away again. “You know, if you thought my jokes were stupid you didn't have to fucking laugh --”

Eddie took another step closer, grabbed him by the shoulder, and turned Richie back towards him. “I didn't mean that. I shouldn't have said your jokes were stupid. They were really fucking funny.”

Then Eddie, standing on his tiptoes in his Christmas-patterned socks, took Richie's face in both hands and kissed him. Richie's lips tingled as Eddie pulled away, and he touched them incredulously. He had kissed guys before – in bars, usually more drunk than he was now – but no kiss had ever made him feel like this.

“I really like your new jokes,” Eddie said.

Richie put his arms around Eddie and pulled him close, kissing him again. His hand felt something wet and slimy on the back of Eddie's neck and he jumped back.

“Okay, you totally need a shower, dude.” Richie said, wiping his hand on his pants and immediately regretting it.

Eddie, as if suddenly remembering he still had puke on him, shuddered, and turned on the shower, pulling the curtain back.

“I'm about to get completely undressed, so, just be prepared for that,” Eddie said, and quickly dropped his pants and pulled off his socks. Now he was only wearing a pair of boxers patterned with colorful Christmas gifts.

Richie's mouth hung open, and he stuttered, “D-do you mind if I st- if I stay?” _God, I sound like Bill,_ he thought.

Eddie grinned. “Oh, what the fuck, Richie.”

Richie started to leave, and Eddie grabbed him by the wrist.

“Did I say no?” Eddie said. Richie grinned. “The least you can do is help me clean this shit off.”

#

“They've been up there for a while,” said Bill, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. The dining room was cleaned, though unfortunately the mashed potatoes had been a casualty of Richie. (“I'll make some more tomorrow,” Mike said, and everyone assured him that he had done enough.)

Finally both Eddie and Richie came down, both with wet hair and wearing pajamas.

Bill raised his eyebrows. “So, all cleaned up?”

Eddie nodded. Richie was smiling almost too wide, especially considering the state of things when they had gone upstairs.

“What's going on with you two?” he asked.

Richie opened his mouth but Eddie shushed him. “Do not fucking say anything,” he said.

Richie closed his mouth again, unable to conceal his grin.

“Richie – what is going on?” Bev asked, in a tone that suggested she already knew.

“Okay, so, Richie and I are a thing now,” Eddie said, still holding his finger up to shush Richie. “And Richie has requested that I make it clear to you all that his jokes are not stupid.”

“Oh my god! Finally!” Bev said. “How long have you been in love with him, Richie? Like 30 years?”

“Oh, like your boyfriend wasn't pining for you that long,” Richie retorted, then softened. “Sorry, I'm still not used to being uh... happy about something.”

Bev _aww_ ed, and Bill and Mike looked at each other, smiling.

“Oh!” said Mike. “So speaking of being happy, I wasn't sure if I should say so before, but --” he took Bill's hand in his – “Bill and I have been living together for the last few months.”

Bill gave Mike an affectionate smile, then the two kissed. Richie's jaw dropped.

“Seriously, this whole time?” he said.

Bill nodded. “Pretty much.”

“I knew you called him 'babe'!” Bev said, nudging Mike's shoulder. “I knew he called him 'babe'! You two didn't believe me!” she said to Richie.

“Well I didn't fucking know!” Richie said. “Why didn't you guys tell me you were gay?”

“Well, I'm bi, actually,” said Bill.

“Hey, me too!” said Bev, and all eyes swiveled towards her (except for Ben, who didn't seem surprised). “It just doesn't really come up a lot.”

“I didn't want to tell you,” said Mike, “because I was worried you'd be mad or jealous or something. You seemed like you've been going through a lot, since the summer,” said Mike.

Richie shrugged. “Yeah, I guess I have. But, like why would I be mad? I probably would have like, asked for you guys' help with...” he suddenly remembered the goings-on of the last half hour and smiled crookedly.

“I don't think you needed it,” said Bill, chuckling.

“I'm pretty sure when we were kids, you guys were constantly flirting,” said Bev. “It drove Stan up the wall.”

“You guys knew back then?” said Richie. “ _I_ barely knew back then.”

Bev shrugged. “It was just kind of an unspoken thing.”

“Well, hey,” Mike said. “Since we're all coupled up, anybody want to dance?”

The stereo was playing a slow, instrumental version of Nat King Cole's “The Christmas Song,” and Bill took Mike's hand, Bev took Ben's, and Eddie took Richie's, and they all filed into the living room, putting their arms around their partners' necks, and swaying to the music. Bev leaned her head against Ben's chest, turning slow, comfortable circles with his strong arms wrapped around her. Bill and Mike rested their foreheads against each other, leaning in for soft, warm kisses once in a while. Richie and Eddie swayed together, still awkward and new, but Richie's palms tingled as they pressed against Eddie's, and Eddie's head swam, not so much with red wine (although that was a small part of it) as with the realization that he had never wanted anything more than this in his entire life.

The fire crackled, the tree lights shone, and a very Merry Christmas was had by all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading. If you like my writing (not that this is the best example LOL but hey, it's gay and fun) check out the Spring 2020 issue of House of Zolo where I'll have real short fiction published with my own original characters! It's got ghosts! Yay! Happy New Year!


End file.
